Thud, thud.

Bored, I wandered around the lab.

I was hoping to find some new Object that had been brought in, but unfortunately, there was nothing.

Could it be that the lab had completely halted new research because the figurines modeled after me were selling so well?

As I strolled, I noticed a familiar golden doghouse.

It had grown even larger and more extravagant than before.

Inside, the "cute dog" was lounging around with an air of arrogance, throwing its weight around.

Researchers from Sehee’s lab were scurrying around, desperately trying to manage the situation.

It seemed the dog was thriving in my absence.

With a smug expression, the dog strutted around as if it were ruling over the researchers.

Something about its personality had changed.

It was no longer a pampered pet but rather a dominant creature.

I phased into the isolation room in ghost form, and when I saw the dog again, I realized it had grown significantly larger.

And judging by the way it barked loudly at me, it had become bolder too.

Its bark carried a sense of defiance, as if it were saying, How dare you enter my isolation room without permission!

Thankfully, it hadn’t completely forgotten who I was. After recognizing me, the dog’s size shrank until it was small enough to fit in the palm of my hand.

It rolled onto its back, whimpering softly, and looked up at me with those big, pleading eyes.

No matter how cute you try to act, I’m not falling for it.

You’re still a bipedal creature.

Drip. Drip. Drip.

The sound of water droplets slowly brought the boy back to consciousness.

As his eyes opened, he was greeted by the same horrifying reality he had hoped was a nightmare.

He wanted so badly to believe it was just a dream, but it wasn’t.

Sob, sob.

The boy whimpered as he gently lowered the corpse hanging from the ceiling onto the bed.

Carefully, he covered the body with a thin sheet from the bed.

“Sister…”

Despite the overwhelming grief, the boy tried his best to make sense of the situation.

He could still remember parting ways with the detective and returning home.

After that… it was all a blur.

Who could have done this?

Why am I still alive?

What if the person who did this comes back?

Am I going to die too?

Now I have no sister, no mother, and no father.

Trapped in the dark, silent cage, the boy’s mind was consumed by fear.

His thoughts spiraled into pessimism, but he gritted his teeth and forced himself to stand.

Even though he was locked in a cage, the absence of the person responsible felt like a chance to escape.

Slowly, the boy approached the bars and pushed on the door.

Creak.

Despite its appearance, the door wasn’t locked.

Why isn’t it locked?

His throat tightened as he swallowed nervously, stepping cautiously beyond the cage.

Tap. Tap. Tap.

The sound of his sneakers echoed through the empty underground corridor.

On either side of him, the cells held corpses hanging from the ceilings.

Each one was someone the boy knew.

It was as if the bodies had been carefully arranged, displaying only those familiar to him.

Who would do such a thing?

His face pale with terror, the boy forced himself to continue walking.

Step by step, he moved toward the end of the corridor.

He passed through the grotesque hallway, and at the end, he found a large, closed iron door.

Standing in front of it, the boy swallowed hard before pushing it open.

Once again, the door opened without resistance.

The space beyond the door had an eerie atmosphere.

The first thing that caught his eye was a set of stairs bathed in bright light.

A wide open area, painted ominously in dark red, led to what looked like an exit—the staircase.

In the center of the room sat a large concrete block, positioned like a museum exhibit or a piece of art.

The block was old, crumbling, and exposed its skeletal frame. It looked like debris torn from a dilapidated ruin.

In the center of the concrete structure was a red circle.

The circle was drawn in fresh blood, its metallic scent filling the air.

Though the circle was rough and hastily drawn, it gave off an unsettling feeling, as if it were pulling him in.

The boy stared at the circle for a moment, then suddenly grew fearful and turned toward the stairs.

He walked slowly, hoping desperately that it would lead to an exit.

I had been hanging around the boy’s house all morning, trying to make calls, and before I knew it, it was already noon.

I had quickly realized that something major had gone down at the scene, so I contacted the police immediately.

But their response was ridiculous: This is outside of our jurisdiction.

Upon further investigation, I found out that this city didn’t have an official police force.

Instead, there was a vigilante group that operated with delegated authority from the police.

They called themselves the "RS Autonomous Committee."

So, I got their contact information and reached out, but they didn’t bother showing up.

Apparently, there were rumors online that the vigilantes ignored Black Rust districts, and those rumors turned out to be true.

This is absurd.

Grumbling to myself, I pulled out a Gray Reaper Pudding from my bag.

It was a sweet snack that the Reaper loved, despite its expensive price tag.

It was so tasty that, after sharing it with the Reaper for a while, it had become a staple in my diet too.

There were rumors that it was a dangerous pudding made from an Object, but I had never heard of anyone having issues with it, so I figured it was fine.

Nom nom.

I scooped some pudding with a spoon and fed it to the Reaper, who munched on it happily with its tiny mouth.

Then I took a bite too.

One bite for the Reaper, one bite for me.

Before I knew it, we had devoured the entire pudding I’d brought for lunch.

The Reaper looked disappointed, so I tapped it lightly on the head with my finger and stood up.

Since there were no police and the vigilantes refused to come, I had no choice but to handle this myself.

I cautiously stepped inside the boy’s house.

It was a large house for someone living alone.

The walls and furniture were covered in sharp claw marks.

What could have caused these?

Judging by the height of the marks, whatever had done this was at least two meters tall—a massive creature with claws.

It was huge.

If it were a wolf, it would have a body length of at least four meters.

I opened my notebook and jotted down everything I had observed.

Something that large had to have been seen by someone.

I wandered through the wrecked house, occasionally glancing at the Reaper in my hand, but there was no reaction from it.

Normally, the Reaper had a sharp sense for detecting evil Objects, but today, it wasn’t picking up on anything.

Before I could solve the case, the client had disappeared, and I had no idea how to find them.

I couldn’t help but think back to the detective and how they always managed to solve cases so effortlessly.

If the detective had been here, they probably would have said something like:

I don’t know for sure, but the culprit is in the north! Let’s just start walking!

What kind of reasoning was that?

Was it some kind of secret technique they weren’t sharing with me?

Despite my thorough search of the house, I couldn’t find anything.

Slap, slap.

Suddenly, the Reaper began slapping my palm.

“Hm? What’s up?”

Looking down at the Reaper, I saw it pointing a tiny finger toward the ceiling.

When I looked up, I noticed a square mark on the ceiling.

I stood on a chair and pressed the ceiling, and a ladder slid down with a soft mechanical whirring sound.

Climbing up the ladder, I found a peculiar attic.

Unlike the rest of the house, which had very little sign of life, this attic felt lived in, though it was in complete disarray.

There were more claw marks here than anywhere else.

The only thing that remained intact was an old desk.

Neatly placed on the desk was a single notebook.

Opening it, I found it filled with scrawled handwriting—someone’s diary.

The pages were filled with curses.

Curses about killing people.

Curses aimed at their family, who had tormented them.

Curses directed at the owner of the city, the man known as "RS," who had turned a blind eye to the discrimination against people with Black Rust.

As I was reading through the journal, a sharp sound suddenly pierced the air.

Shhhk.

The soft sound of a blade cutting through concrete.

It was aimed at my neck—too fast to dodge.

Wham.

The scythe-like blade was blocked by the Reaper, who had leapt into the air from my palm.

“!”

Startled, I fell to the floor while the Reaper glared fiercely at the desk.

Clang!

The blade, which the Reaper had sliced through, fell to the floor with a chilling sound.

From under the desk, a grotesque Object with a dark, ominous color began to emerge, writhing and hissing as it revealed itself.

Beautiful piano music filled the isolation room.

The performer was the blue lizard.

Dancing in sync with the piano was another Object—a cute dog, standing on two legs.

The dog had been dancing for hours and was beginning to look exhausted.

Its legs trembled, and its once-keen eyes had softened.

Just as I was starting to grow bored, I had a good idea.

Summoning two Golden Reapers into my hands, I proposed a task: Would you like to be in charge of managing the “cute dog”?

The payment would be one Reaper pudding per day.

The job was to prevent the dog from bothering humans.

The Golden Reapers, who were never fond of the dog to begin with, readily accepted the offer.

As soon as I handed over the task to them, I suddenly felt a desperate plea.

Startled, I looked around, and the Golden Reapers also blinked in surprise, their eyes wide with confusion.

The plea was much stronger than anything the Golden Reapers could convey.

After tracing the source of the plea, I realized it was coming from the rebellious Golden Reaper who had run away from the Mini Reaper Garden.

It sounded urgent. I needed to check it out.

Leaving the dog in the capable hands of the Golden Reapers, I used my black penguin teleportation ability to fly to the source.

Huff, huff.

I gasped for breath, looking around.

Surrounding me were countless four-legged spider-like Objects, each armed with sharp scythes.

My whole body ached from the cuts I’d received.

The Reaper was strong, but there were just too many enemies.

Every time the Reaper attacked, the spider Objects would target me.

This forced the Reaper to constantly defend me, preventing it from fighting effectively.

I’m sorry, Reaper.

Because of me, you can’t fight properly…

Suddenly, the Reaper opened its mouth as if to shout.

Its golden horn glowed brightly, sending a powerful vibration through the surrounding space.

At the same time, I felt an extraordinary force wash over me.

In that moment, a gray hue seeped into my vision, as if reality itself was being rewritten.

And at the center of this surreal shift stood the Gray Reaper.

The moment the Gray Reaper appeared, the once-active spider Objects fell silent, and the air grew heavy, as if the entire world was holding its breath.

It felt as though time itself had frozen.

The Gray Reaper surveyed the room with an indifferent expression before lifting the smaller Reaper into the air, inspecting it curiously.

Poke, poke.

With a look of childlike wonder, the Gray Reaper pressed down on the small Reaper’s soft horn.

Each time it poked, the horn squished down and then sprang back up.

A faint smile played on the Gray Reaper’s lips as it continued its playful poking, and the suffocating tension in the room eased.

At that moment, the spider Objects launched a frenzied attack on the Gray Reaper.

The Gray Reaper let out a sigh of annoyance and gracefully raised a hand, clenching its fist.

Thunk.

With a simple gesture, the space around the attic warped, and the spider Objects were crushed into a single black mass.

All the struggles I had endured to avoid their scythes suddenly felt meaningless—it had ended so easily.